The Sword Dancer

by Jeanne Lin

  The house was asleep. Li Feng stepped silently over wooden floors sanded smooth. After a lifetime of living in hovels and wayside inns, the prefect’s mansion was a palace. It made what she was there to do seem even darker.

  The bedchambers would be at the rear of the mansion, in the most private of spaces. The prefect would be there, asleep in his bed and helpless. She hadn’t been entirely truthful when she told Han she wouldn’t seek Guan He’s death. The bastard was obsessed with her mother. Li Feng imagined him sending his henchmen after them, just as he’d done fifteen years ago.

  Li Feng reached beneath her sleeve and slid the sword from its sheath. This act would severe any tie she could possibly have to Zheng Hao Han. In his heart, he still believed in justice and order. If government officials could be killed in the darkness of the night, then no one was safe. There was no law.

  Mother appeared soundlessly at the end of the corridor. She was wearing a light spring robe with a travelling cloak draped over her shoulders.

  ‘Li Feng, be careful with that sword!’ She gasped, her hand rising to her throat. ‘What were you planning to do with it?’

  Seeing her mother before her was still a dream, but with each passing moment the truth of it became more real.

  ‘It’s for protection,’ she lied. ‘Will that scoundrel come after you?’

  This time Li Feng was no longer a helpless child. She was ready to end the threat now if that was what was necessary. Their family deserved their freedom.

  ‘That man has no say in what happens to me,’ Mother said, straightening her shoulders. ‘Not any longer.’

  Li Feng glimpsed the majestic figure of her memories. The goddess that the world had revolved around. Her mother. The woman who had desperately tried to protect her, who now seemed afraid to approach her.

  Suddenly there was shame in her heart. Li Feng didn’t want to be an assassin. She didn’t want to be someone cold and hardened and vengeful. She wanted to be her mother’s daughter. She tucked the blade away.

  ‘Let us go now.’ Mother went to her, taking hold of her arm.

  Mother glanced back once towards the chambers at the back of the house before they left the opulent prison behind.

  * * *

  There was a boat waiting at the dock. Liu Yuan inhabited the boat when he was in the city and it was where Li Feng had stayed hidden with him for the last few days. A single lantern hung from the cabin, casting light on two figures at the bow. Mother stopped short. Then, with a sob, she rushed forwards. Liu Yuan leapt on to the dock to catch her in his arms.

  Li Feng watched them, emotion swelling within her. The three of them had found one another through time and distance and so much turmoil. In that moment, the isolation of the mountains and the loneliness of the cities swept away. Father’s spirit would be watching from above. They were together at last.

  But only her brother and Bao Yang were on the dock.

  ‘Han.’ She spoke his name fearfully.

  ‘I’m here.’

  She spun around and his presence surrounded her. He wouldn’t embrace her, not with so many people watching them, but it was enough that he was standing before her.

  ‘You succeeded.’

  His smile was forced. ‘Did you have any doubt?’

  His posture was rigid and there was tension about his jaw. Something was wrong. ‘You’re injured.’

  ‘Archers.’

  She started to reach for him, to enquire about how badly he was hurt, but he stopped her. ‘We cannot stop yet,’ he reminded her quietly.

  They had to keep moving. The news would spread that the would-be assassins had escaped and there would be sentries swarming the bridges. She would go and he would stay. It had to be that way.

  Li Feng struggled to find some way to express the flood of emotions within her. The most difficult feeling to sort out was how she felt about him. Maybe it could never be fully understood. It was what the Taoists called knowing without knowing.

  ‘If anyone sees that you’re wounded, they’ll know you were involved,’ she said.

  He shrugged. ‘It’s not so bad.’

  They didn’t have long. Only these few short words and she was wasting them. Wasting them. Inside, her heart cried with despair at her useless tongue.

  ‘You can tell them you tried to stop us and we overpowered you,’ she said.

  ‘I have a reputation to uphold, sword dancer,’ Han scoffed, but his eyes held a deep, growing sadness.

  Her throat tightened and the next words came with great difficulty. ‘If we had met in different circumstances, in another life—’

  He hushed her, touching a hand gently to her face. His thumb rested at the corner of her mouth. Then he did nothing but look. She did the same until it became too difficult. Each moment she was there beside him made her want to stay.

  She turned towards the boat without saying anything more. Liu Yuan was helping Mother into the boat while Bao Yang untied the knots that kept them anchored. Han followed behind her, the wooden dock creaking beneath his footsteps. He would stay with her as long as he could.

  ‘We’re even now, thief-catcher,’ her brother said as they approached. ‘No one owes the other anything.’

  ‘How do you figure that?’ Han demanded.

  ‘I could have left you on that wall to be shot full of holes. Instead we dragged you through the city.’

  Han shook his head. ‘With that logic, the two of you are certainly family.’

  Mother’s gaze flickered to Li Feng, then back to Han with so many questions in her eyes. Yet somehow she understood enough.

  ‘Thank you for all you’ve done for my family,’ Mother told him humbly.

  Han nodded, and then turned to help Li Feng on to the boat. His hand paused at the small of her back to steady her. With her sense of balance, the touch was unnecessary, but she savoured the contact. Their time together was altogether too brief and she’d spent most of it escaping from him.

  ‘Now I must go and help hunt down some dangerous fugitives,’ Han told them. ‘I hear they’ve escaped into the woods to the south of the city.’

  Liu Yuan extinguished the lantern and they pulled the boat away from the dock. Li Feng raised her hand in farewell, but it was too dark to see if Han returned the gesture. The night had swallowed them all and she imagined the dark and solid shape standing at the edge of the river as she floated away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Han was discussing the night’s arrests with Constable Guo when the summons came the next morning. There had been no sleep for anyone. The prison had been filled with suspects from last night’s search, but they turned out to be mostly vagrants with no homes to go to, curfew or not.

  ‘Magistrate Tan needs to see both of you at Prefect Guan’s mansion,’ the messenger relayed.

  Han’s shoulder had been bandaged tightly with several layers of cloth to stanch the flow of blood. The arrowhead had pierced muscle before being stopped by the bone at his shoulder. His silk undershirt had kept the tip from lodging, but though the arrow was removed, the pain was very much still with him.

  His mind had dulled the sharpness of it into a throbbing ache as the night wore on. He’d managed to procure a dose of opium tea from an herbal shop in the early hours of the morning, but the effect of the medicine was wearing thin. He tried very hard to move his arm as little as possible and put on a straight face as he entered the front gate of the prefect’s residence.

  Magistrate Tan was in the study. The prefect was with him; or rather Guan He’s body was present. He was sitting rigidly in his chair, head back, eyes closed. A grey pallor had set into his skin.

  ‘Not a good night at all,’ Tan muttered, shaking his head.

  ‘Was it the fugitives?’ Han asked, playing his part. He knew that would be seen as an easy, but unlikely conclusion.

  ‘Those rebels employed swords and long knives,’ Tan said accordingly. ‘This was clearly poison.’

  The magistrate indicated the cup of tea s
et before the prefect. Han took the liberty of lifting the lid to see the dregs of it that remained.

  ‘What’s wrong? You seem a bit stiff,’ Magistrate Tan commented as Han straightened.

  ‘Old battle injury,’ Han replied without blinking.

  ‘The guards reported no intruders and Prefect Guan appears rather comfortable…other than being dead. The only person missing from the household is one of Prefect Guan’s concubines; disappeared in the middle of the night.’

  Han’s stomach knotted. ‘The concubine betrayed him for a lover, perhaps?’

  He provided the most banal of conclusions, without any cleverness behind it. Magistrate Tan was not so easily deflected. The magistrate directed Constable Guo to secure the household and waited for him to depart before continuing.

  ‘It seems we have an interesting connection here. The concubine was the wife of a man who had been executed for attacking the prefect so many years ago. She had been sentenced to commit suicide, but the attending magistrate had petitioned Guan He for leniency.’

  Han nodded. ‘Guan He’s concubine killed him for revenge, then.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Tan stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘This was before my appointment to Minzhou, but I realised the magistrate at the time might have exercised some, shall we say, restraint when reporting on his superior. The report didn’t mention that the woman had been spared or that Guan took her in. She has been living in seclusion in his home all these years. Imagine a woman forced to share a bed with a man responsible for destroying her family. There’s nothing more fearsome than a tigress protecting her cubs.’

  Han thought of the woman standing in the boat. She’d had Li Feng’s graceful figure, slight at the waist and long-limbed. Her face was strikingly similar to her daughter’s, with a few creases as a sacrifice to time. Her eyes had been full of tears at the joy of seeing her children again. There was gentleness and elegance about her, a spirit that Li Feng might have embodied if not for the tragedies of the past. Yet Li Feng’s fire came from somewhere.

  ‘Still, I don’t believe this is the answer to our riddle,’ the magistrate declared.

  ‘No?’ Han had nearly convinced himself. He was getting caught up in the investigation.

  Tan circled the desk, keeping his eyes on Prefect Guan the entire time. ‘The last time the servants saw him was late in the evening. He’s rather well-dressed for that time, wouldn’t you say? And his robe is heavy for the season. Quite opulent.’

  Han had an idea where the magistrate was going. ‘You think he was prepared to die.’

  ‘Dressed in his best. Here he is, in his private study so he can be found in death looking as he wanted to be remembered, an esteemed official.’

  Magistrate Tan was deflecting suspicion away from Li Feng and her entire family all on his own.

  ‘I can’t imagine a powerful man like the prefect taking his own life because his favourite concubine left him,’ Han said.

  Tan shot him a sly look. ‘For a man of the sword, you have a scholar’s weakness for sentimentality. Guan He didn’t kill himself for a woman. He committed suicide to avoid the shame of having his crimes discovered. Our new Emperor has taken it upon himself to rid the government of corruption, even going so far as to review the actions of appointed officials down to the prefecture level. Prefect Guan must have been very concerned.’

  ‘Now I’m intrigued. You have some conspiracy in mind.’

  ‘It all hinges on one theory we have not yet considered: it was Prefect Guan who hired the assassins.’ Magistrate Tan paused, obviously enjoying himself.

  ‘The prefect hired the assassins to attack Wang Shizhen?’ Han recounted slowly.

  ‘Because the general had discovered his illegal activities. When you suspected that Prefect Guan was involved in corruption, I looked further into his operations. Guan He was skimming from the prefecture’s salt production and selling it himself to keep the profits. However, given the wide-reaching nature of salt-smuggling operations, I’d wager that he encroached into Wang Shizhen’s territory and the warlord eventually discovered who was responsible.’

  ‘The shipment of jade and gold would have been a bribe, then,’ Han suggested. ‘To appease the warlord.’

  ‘But once General Wang knew a prefect was involved, he became greedy and ambitious, demanding more. He wanted a hand in things, to wrest more control. Rumour has it that Wang is building his army with aspirations of becoming military governor of the entire province.’

  Magistrate Tan shook his head, his frown deepening enough to be called a scowl. Ever since the Anshi Rebellion, the Imperial court sought to control the rise of powerful warlords in the provinces.

  ‘Prefect Guan had insinuated that the murder of his steward wasn’t the work of bandits, but rather an attempt by the warlord to intimidate him,’ Han offered.

  Now they fed off of one another, co-conspirators hand-in-hand.

  ‘So he invites Wang to his home and stages an assassination attempt on himself,’ Tan began.

  ‘But the real target is the warlord.’

  ‘Yes! Wang was the one the assassins attacked,’ the magistrate pointed out eagerly.

  The prefect had only been spared because Han had intervened, but he kept quiet on that. ‘To the prefect’s dismay, General Wang survives his wounds,’ Han said.

  The general was still fighting death, but it was believed that, as strong as he was, he might recover.

  ‘And the assassins escaped last night,’ Magistrate Tan added. ‘Guan He planned for his hirelings to be executed quickly to preserve their silence. He must have seen that everything was unravelling. Either his corrupt activities would be exposed to the Imperial Censorate or the bloodthirsty General Wang would recover and exact revenge. Poison was the coward’s way out.’

  The magistrate was completely wrong, at least about who had planned the assassination, but Tan’s theory could explain everything. He had outlined the intrigue so plausibly. There was likely truth to some of it: the bribe to Wang, the smuggling, perhaps even some intimidation and Wang’s plan to wrest control of the salt trade and the province. Li Feng and Liu Yuan were left completely out of it. They were commoners, of little significance in this power struggle between a scheming government official and a fearsome warlord.

  ‘It seems like justice prevails,’ Han said carefully. ‘The province is rid of one corrupt bureaucrat and Wang Shizhen’s attempt to take control was thwarted.’

  ‘Our job is not yet finished,’ Tan said.

  Han didn’t overlook how the magistrate casually included him in the statement.

  ‘We must be very quiet about this. The Salt Commissioner is likely involved as well as many others. I don’t want anyone to suspect we know anything before I can bring evidence against all of them at once. Then there’s the matter of the two fugitives and the sword dancer as well.’

  Han felt the wind rush out of him. He was starting to celebrate before the battle was won.

  ‘Constable Guo and his men have had no success finding the sword dancer. You were the only one who truly got a good look at her.’

  The magistrate’s tone had shifted. He met Han’s gaze squarely and there was something unspoken beneath everything he said. Han recalled the lack of guards in the prison house last night as well as Bao Yang’s cryptic statement: He sent you?

  ‘At him,’ Han said his heart pounding.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I was the only one who truly got a good look at him.’

  He was taking a gamble. In the next moments what Tan said or didn’t say would tell him everything. They were no longer speaking with words, at least not the plain sort that could be heard by the ear. They were speaking the language of meanings within meanings.

  Magistrate Tan said nothing. He waited, blinking curiously.

  ‘There was something unusual about the dancer that I didn’t realise until now,’ Han continued. ‘My mind was focused on the fight at the time, but the more I think about it, the more I’m conv
inced that was no woman who battled with me. He was too strong and no woman could be that skilled with the sword.’

  Tan looked surprised, then pleased. ‘No wonder we have been confounded in this search! And the reports of the prison break last night did speak of three men. I will inform Constable Guo immediately. Will you go after them as well?’

  A pause there. A meaningful one that was full of anticipation.

  ‘I was hoping to continue my humble work here,’ Han replied, full of formality. ‘If you’ll have me, sir.’

  ‘Ah, well said, well said!’ The magistrate reached for Han’s bad shoulder to clasp it in a brotherly fashion, but he stopped himself. Tan’s hand retreated beneath his sleeve. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Let the other thief-catchers chase after the rabble.’

  With a satisfied nod, Tan started towards the door. ‘There’s an interesting saying about poison, you know. Use poison to fight poison.’

  The same way it took one scheming and clever bureaucrat to combat another. Han glanced one final time at the prefect as he passed by the desk. Guan He’s arm had fallen to his side. His hand was clenched around the jade pendant. The tassel that dangled from it was blood red against the grey, lifeless skin.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In Buddhist thought, small actions had far-reaching consequences across distance, across time. Han hadn’t spent much time pondering on such implications in the spiritual realm, but as a thief-catcher he knew that every action left a mark. No matter how faint the trace was, it could be sought out and mark upon mark would link together to create a trail.

  In the weeks that followed, Han discovered such seemingly insignificant details. There had been a simultaneous disturbance outside of the prefect’s mansion right before the attack, but the perpetrators appeared to be nothing more than a street gang, throwing rocks and insults before being chased away. In the light of the more serious crime, the incident was overlooked.